


CONFISCATED

by Monika



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 21:09:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monika/pseuds/Monika





	CONFISCATED

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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**CONFISCATED**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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”Hutch? Need the screwdriver here in the kitchen!”  


Hutch startled, and realized that he  
had fallen asleep on Starsky’s  
comfortable new armchair that sat among unpacked boxes from Starsky’s  
old  
place. In the past couple of days he had helped his best friend  
move into his new home, exhausting himself while Starsky  
still seemed  
full of energy.

“Hutch?”

“Yeah, I’m coming. Where is the screwdriver,  
anyway?” Hutch shoved  
himself out of the cushions then yelped in pain when something stung  
him. “Got it,”  
he mumbled, looking at the screwdriver in a corner of  
the armchair.

“You had it when you fixed the lamp  
in the living room,” Starsky  
shouted --then reached back to take the tool when Hutch trudged into  
the kitchen.

“Look, we only have to put this shelf up on the wall then we call it a  
day.” It looked quite neck-breaking  
as Starsky stood on tiptoes on the  
ladder and stretched further to fix the shelf.

“Will you be careful?”  
 Hutch grumbled, then gripped Starsky’s legs to  
steady him.

“Back off!”  Starsky giggled  
and swayed dangerously. “’M ticklish  
there!” At the last minute Hutch caught hold of his slipping partner,  
then both stood panting and relieved.

“That’s it for today! Starsky declared, leaning against Hutch  
to  
examine his handiwork. “We’ve done great, haven’t we, Hutch?”

“Sure, and now  
I’m going home. I’m beat,” Hutch said feeling a headache  
coming on. He patted his friend on the shoulder  
and turned to leave  
when Starsky stopped him.

“Hey, Hutch. Thanks a lot for helping me with all the stuff.  
Please  
stay and let me fix some dinner. I don’t want to be alone my first  
evening here…” he smiled  
mischievously.  Then he frowned, looking  
closer at Hutch’s pale face.

“You’ve got another  
headache again, don’t ya?” he said, serious this  
time. “C’mon, lay down and I’ll call you  
when dinner is ready. Take my  
bed and relax. You can draw the blinds to keep the light out.”

Hutch smiled.  
Starsky knew him all too well. After Starsky had been  
shot in the police garage Hutch’s headaches had turned into  
migraines  
and he knew the only way to handle them was lying down in a dark room  
and getting some rest.

“Okay,  
I’ll take a nap. Wake me up in half an hour.” Hutch made his way  
to the bedroom circling around the various  
boxes like a maze. Tomorrow  
they could start unpacking and soon Starsky’s new home would be in the  
neat condition  
Starsky preferred.

Hutch collapsed on the bed, automatically closing his eyes against the  
pain. He heard Starsky  
rummaging in the kitchen and was about to drift  
off when he heard voices at the front door. He turned onto his other  
side  
and pulled the covers over his head, knowing he needed this quiet  
time. Distant laughter and excited voices reached him,  
but he didn’t  
care as he fell into an exhausted sleep.

“Hutch?” Starsky’s quiet voice  
near his ear made him grunt and turn.  
Sleepily, he looked into concerned blue eyes.

“My new neighbors arranged  
a little welcome party for me in their  
garden,” Starsky explained. “I’ve already told them my friend  
isn’t in  
a party mood, but -- what do you think? Are you up to some fun? There’s  
everything you want to  
eat and drink.”

Hutch felt nothing but exhaustion, and he shook his still-aching head.  
“No thanks,  
buddy. I’ve gotta get more rest. Maybe I can join you  
later. Enjoy your party, okay?”

As Hutch closed  
his eyes again he felt light fingertips trace along his  
brow for a moment then Starsky was gone. Hutch curled up beneath  
the  
covers again, grateful for the silence and solitude.

***

When Hutch awoke again it was to a loud noise  
coming from the bedroom  
door. He opened his eyes to see Starsky wobbling into the room, a shoe  
in his hand, leaving  
the door open behind him. As he bent down and  
swayed dangerously, Hutch propped himself up on one elbow and sleepily  
frowned.  
“C’mere. What’s wrong?”

“Lost my shoe,” Starsky mumbled then let himself fall  
onto the bed,  
burying Hutch halfway under him.

“Oops.” The word was a slurred apology when he heard  
Hutch’s strangled  
yelp.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to hurt ya.” Starsky rolled off Hutch to lie  
on his  
back, looking at the ceiling. Suddenly he started giggling  
uncontrollably and ended with a hiccup.

“Must’ve  
been some party,” Hutch chuckled, lying flat again.

“There was a lot to drink. They said we should empty  
the bottles. In  
the Tequila bottle, there was only this much left.” Starsky raised a  
trembling hand and showed  
two fingers. “The Whiskey took a little  
longer to finish, and the Bacardi…”

Suddenly Starsky  
sat up and scrambled from the bed. “’M gonna be sick.”  
He dashed into the bathroom, butting against  
more boxes along the way.  
Then Hutch heard only retching and pitiful moans.

He crawled out of bed to assist his  
partner if needed. They had always  
been there for each other, no matter if one had been hurt or drunk.  
Hutch couldn’t  
let that change now.

He found Starsky embraced the toilet bowl like he’d never let it go,  
and grinned. “Finished?”  
he guessed.  “C’mon, let’s get you into bed.”  
Hutch dampened a nearby washcloth to wipe his  
partners’ face.

“’M sorry,” Starsky mumbled, struggling to get up as Hutch finished  
cleaning  
him up.

Tossing the cloth into the sink, Hutch ignored his own indisposition as  
he put his arms around Starsky’s  
chest and hauled him upright. “That’s  
my boy,” Hutch said fondly, and slowly they made their way back  
to the  
bedroom.

“Wait a minute.” Hutch released Starsky beside the bed then stepped  
over to turn  
on the overhead light. He squinted against the brightness  
as he turned to help his friend undress. Starsky stood unmoving,  
a  
silly grin on his face.

“Hey, you mind helping me a little?” Hutch requested, and Starsky  
smiled  
apologetically.

“Sure. Well, dunno why I drank all the stuff. It was fun and we laughed  
a lot. I’m  
lucky with my new neighbors and…” Starsky continued rambling  
about the party and the drinks he was given as  
he worked to remove his  
jeans.

Accepting the discarded item, Hutch frowned. “Starsk, why are your  
jeans  
so dirty?” He held the soiled denim in front of his partner’s  
nose. Starsky’s face crinkled in disdain,  
and he pulled away.

“Well, I had to pee and since everybody else used the compost heap in  
the garden, I  
did too. I musta lost my shoe ‘cause when I was trying to  
find it, I think I fell. I found my way home, but not  
my shoe. I’m  
really sorry ... gotta find my shoe.” By now Starsky was leaning  
heavily against Hutch, literally  
falling asleep on his feet.

“We’ll look for it tomorrow,” Hutch answered, stripping off Starsky’s  
damp shirt before letting him drop down on the bed, hastily tossing the  
covers aside. Without a word Starsky curled  
into a ball, already  
unconscious when Hutch pulled the covers over him.

Hutch looked at his friend with affection.  
When he was in the right  
mood Starsky knew no boundaries and he was paying the price for his  
exuberance now. Hutch  
decided to put a basin from the bathroom at his  
partners’ bedside -- just in case. Then he switched off the light  
and  
silently left the room.

His headache was nearly gone and he was hungry, so he made a sandwich  
and drank  
a beer. Looking for a place to spend the rest of the night,  
he slumped down in the wide armchair in the living room, falling  
asleep  
again in no time at all.

***

“What’re you doing in the chair?”

Hutch  
heard the words from far away. He blinked and squinted his eyes  
against the bright morning light that flooded Starsky’s  
living room. A  
shadow was hovering over him and he recognized the disheveled dark  
curls as belonging to his partner.

“Starsk.  How are you?” Hutch sat up then moaned when his back  
protested the sudden movement  
and his sleeping posture.

“Been worse – and better,” Starsky said, looking worriedly at his  
friend.  
“Why are you sleeping in that chair? I remember you were layin’  
on my bed when I went to the party. You gotta  
take care of your back…  
Wanna take a hot shower? That might help.”

Starsky looked around, apparently  
confused, then started to open some  
of the boxes in the living room while Hutch watched, amused.

“Your clothes  
are over there, in that big box,” Hutch told him, then  
made his way to the bathroom, moving slowly this time.

When  
he came out some time later Starsky was still in his briefs,  
looking desperately at his shoe. “Hutch, I lost my  
other shoe. Are you  
gonna help me find it?”

Hutch nodded, but pointed to the bathroom. “Sure, but  
you need to get  
dressed first. Are you feeling better than when you came home last  
night?”

“A  
little. And -- thanks for the basin. It came in handy.” Starsky  
blushed. Then he trotted into the bathroom, leaving  
Hutch to stifle a  
yawn and go make their morning coffee.

***

Half an hour later the two weary detectives  
were examining the garden  
where the party had taken place.

“Hutch, you see these footprints?” Starsky  
pointed. “They could be  
mine.”

He knelt down to examine some traces while Hutch went toward the  
compost  
heap, hoping Starsky’s blue Adidas could be easily seen. But  
their search proved to be in vain. The shoe simply  
wasn’t there.

“Shit! Those’re my best pair of shoes.” Starsky was becoming frantic.    
“I can’t have lost it here, taking a leak.  How dumb would that be?”    
He stopped abruptly  
when he saw Hutch raise his hand.

“Starsk?” Smiling at his friend’s tirade, Hutch pointed to the garden  
further inside the yard. A fence divided off the compost pile, but  
right in front of Hutch was a hole in the fence.  
On the other side  
something blue shimmered in the grass.

“My God!” Following Hutch’s gaze, Starsky  
gasped at what he saw --a big  
black dog that lay in front of his dog house, contentedly biting and  
sucking at Starsky’s  
blue shoe.

“Do something, Hutch!” Starsky yelled -- then instantly fell silent  
when the dog released  
a low, warning growl.

“Well, I guess time will tell,” Hutch stated philosophically, not  
knowing what  
to do at all.

He watched as Starsky summoned all his courage and made a move to crawl  
through the hole in the  
fence. The dog sat up, showing his teeth as he  
growled louder this time.

“Okay, okay, I’m goin’.”  
Starsky drew back, then looked at Hutch  
pathetically for help.

“There’s only one chance,” Hutch  
said soberly, pausing as he put his  
hand on Starsky’s shoulder.

“You cootchie-coo him and I’ll  
get my shoe back.  Right?  Hutch?”  
Starsky beamed at his partner, receiving a meaningful smile in  
response.

“No,” Hutch replied sweetly. “You give him the other shoe too and  
you’ll have a friend  
for life.”

Hutch knew about Starsky’s running skills and turned fast to escape his  
revenge. From the  
corner of his eye Hutch saw the dog crawl through the  
hole of the fence. It seemed he was looking forward to having a  
little  
fun chasing after the two men running through his garden -- the shoe he  
had confiscated after the party could  
definitely wait.

  
The end

 

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